


Letters

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: If Thou Art Broken [5]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, PoE Inktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: "Why can’t I read this?” she asks Thaos, gesturing towards the words written in familiar runes that, for some reason, do not want to make sense. “I do know Engwithan.”





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> (PoE inktober, prompt 12: Letter(s))

Eira puts the small tablet aside and falls down onto the bed; the mattress jerks, scaring Thaos. The cat wakes from his nap, throws her an indignant look which reminds her _very_ much of his namesake, and jumps down onto the floor, marching towards his cushioned basket. Just as well; two of them at once might be too much to handle, and cats can sense souls – or maybe just Watchers’ cats can.

She puts her hand on the medallion and closes her eyes. When she opens them, Thaos is sitting beside her, perched on his usual spot at the edge of the bed.

“Why can’t I read this?” she asks, gesturing towards the words written in familiar runes that, for some reason, do not want to make sense. “I _do_ know Engwithan.”

“You know late Engwithan, from your memories,” Thaos explains with a scholarly air. “And bits of soul Engwithan, from mine. And from your research.”

Eira huffs. “Stop showing off. I bet you can’t read Ordhjóma talking knots.”

Thaos only smiles in reply. When she blinks and opens her eyes, he is holding a set of strings with a cluster of knots on each; it says ‘bright moonlight’. With his arched eyebrows and overall expression clearly asking ‘You mean these?’, Eira is sure he is teasing her.

“Fine, fine! You made you point.” With a sigh, she curls up and leans against the pillows, rising to a somewhat sitting position. “So what language is that, oh enlightened one?”

“High Engwithan. It was used for official documents and history records. Sometimes, very cautiously, in art or by scholars.” He reaches for the tablet, and Eira scuttles closer. “It has some mild soul-influencing qualities, if you know how to use it.”

“Ah, like… what did you call it, soul Engwithan?”

“Similar.”

“Let me guess; it’s complicated.”

“What did you expect? Souls are complicated, Watcher; you of all kith should know it.” There is something vaguely familiar in the cadence of his voice. “They are very fragile vessels, when not treated right.”

Eira grasps his hand before he can put the tablet back onto the small chest she is using as a bedside table. “Teach me to read it?” she asks, somewhat plaintively. But maybe finding enough things to fill her time with will keep her sane.

Thaos gives her a strange look, as if he was staring at someone else. He is, she realises; he is looking at her past life, at that acolyte he had taught. For a moment, Eira sees him through her eyes; his tone seemed familiar because she – her soul – has heard it before.

“Why?” he asks at last, after a long pause. “You’ve already learnt that our knowledge cannot provide the answers you seek.”

There is something terrible, terrifying and deeply moving in the way he says that; ‘our knowledge’, as if he was all his people. In a way, he is. The last of his clan; without a clan, like her, except that she could reclaim her past, if so she wanted, as he has no way of doing that.

“Maybe it can,” she replies slowly, staring at him as if she saw him for the first time.

For a moment, Thaos does not answer. Then he reaches for the tablet and starts reading.


End file.
